Religion and the Limits of Science
CARL S. KEENER*

From: JASA 15 (December 1963):
104-107.

Science is a human mental creation, It is limited by the source of its data, the logical operations which analyze them, and its incomplete model of the universe. It can never yield an answer to the basic question of human existence, "Why are we here?" Religion, however, deals
with that question and provides a metaphysical framework to clarify the normative and teleological areas of man's existence, Christianity needs creative thinkers who are bridge-builders
mastering the insights from various disciplines and bringing them to bear on problems, like
evolutionary theory, faced by the Christian community.

The purpose of this paper is to examine candidly
some of the inherent weaknesses of science and to suggest how religion meets these limitations and goes beyond them. I do not aim to be definitive and above all,
I do not mean to imply that those who disagree are, by
definition, wrong.

Modern science began when men crashed through
the stuffy dogmatism of the Medieval scholastics who
in turn had tried to stand on the shoulders of ancient
Greek and Roman giants, such as Plato, Aristotle, and
Galen. The scientific knowledge explosion goes back to
the time when Renaissance intellectuals discovered
that looking at Nature could be more exciting than
merely reading Aristotle. Since then we have had a
tremendous knowledge explosion which today is virtually getting out of hand.

Glass and others have stated that scientific knowledge
is growing so fast that the amount of significant knowledge doubles approximately every 10 to 15 years (3).
During the past
200
years the number of scientific
journals has been doubling every 15 years until at present we have roughly 100,000
journals in science alone
(6). Even though this unmanageable growth of knowledge has numerous ill side-effects which I shall not go
into here, one result of this growth is to make the public aware of the large scope and high status of science.
One reason for this is that 90 percent of all scientists
who ever lived are living today (7, p. 96).

While some persons may regard science as a sacred
cow, most people probably see it as some large insatiable monster blasting away at all the bedrocks of
ingrown security and creedalism. The scientist is seen
as a precision automaton in a white coat or a stoopshould,cred fuddy-duddy in baggy pants with a forgetful mind. While these caricatures are worth their usual
quota of jokes, they do not illuminate the task and
scope of science.

Despite the impossibility of formulating the definition of science, I personally like the one offered by
Simpson: "Science is an exploration of the material universe that seeks natural, orderly relationships among observed phenomena and that is self-testing"
(11).

Science, therefore, is concerned with more than description and fact-finding. It moves beyond these levels and
is concerned with relationships and generalizations that
supposedly exist between and among the observed
phenomena. It is concerned with the literally material
and objectively physical aspects of our universe; insofar
as our discussions relate themselves to the nonmaterial
our treatments are metaphysical. Science must also be a
self-testing cybernetic system in which generalizations
and principles are always more or less oriented toward
the material universe.

Into what kind of world did Newton, Galileo, Darwin, Einstein, Heisenberg and others lead us? The
world shaped by these men's minds is a world of excitement, sweep, and incompleteness. To discover things
for oneself, to listen to first-rate minds clash over an
idea, to partake in the thrill of helping push back the
frontiers of knowledge can be fun and loaded with
excitement. Science is sweeping in its scope for it tackles
many problems, utilizes many approaches and techniques, and has far reaching effects piercing into virtually ~every nook and cranny of our existence. I choose
to expand a bit in the least understood facet of science,
its limitations or incompleteness.

Limitations of Science

A widespread idea is that science is precise and exact; indeed, about as perfect as anything could be.
Many people still feel that science is perfect and the
most complete and certain of any human mental crea tion. Philosophy, theology, and metaphysics might be
fuzzy, marred by imprecisions, and scarred by endless
and trivial debates such as the number of angels that
can dance on a needle point. But science never! It does
not get sidetracked by such vagaries, but is straightforward, precise and certain. But wait! While it once appeared as though our descriptions
of
nature could be
complete, orderly and precise, we are not at all cocksure now. Scientists and philosophers are reappraising
the nature
of
science; they now remark that while

*Mr. Keener is Asst. Prof. of Biology, Eastern Mennonite
College. In 1963-64 he will
be an NSF graduate fellow in
botany at North Carolina State working toward his Ph.D. in
botany.

science is good and can do much, it is by no means
perfect. But this does not make science any less desirable, for as Warren Weaver maintains, who wants to
marry a woman who is totally predictable and completely perfect?
(12)

just in what way is science imperfect and incomplete?
First, science is essentially a statistical study of the
natural world about us. This statement points to several
problems. Scientists work with empirical data based on
observations which are then reduced to factual propositions. Now defining a fact is not easy as Hanson points
out (5, p. 31). Yet our scientific laws are based on
these so-called facts, i.e., the observations we make of
certain natural phenomena. Because we cannot observe
and analyze everything, we study samples. The meticulous analysis of our sample is then supposed to tell us
about all the other unmeasured and unobserved members of the set from which our sample was drawn.

Not only do we sample but we also perform measurements of various kinds. No measurement is ever
completely accurate simply because our gadgets cannot
perform the measurements with an absolute degree of
refinement. Therefore, because our measurements lack
perfect accuracy, and because ideas or laws derived
from a study of a sample may not reflect the true
characteristics of an entire population, we must conclude that perfect accuracy either of a conclusion about a
whole population or of a prediction based on our past
analyses is impossible of attainment. For these and
other reasons, Scriven would say that the only thing we
can now say for the so-called laws of nature, e.g., the
law of gravity, is that they are inaccurate. Scriven has

. . . called inaccuracy the key property of physical
laws because its almost universal presence is a kind of
unadmitted shocking fact like the Emperor's nakedness,
and needs to be pointed out if we are to get a true picture of the role of laws"
(9, p. 104).
Gordon H. Clark
would go even further; he would say that the laws of
nature are false, i.e., they are a possible approximation
of the truth, but never the absolute and final truth
(2,
p. 209).
And Hanson adds, ". . . there is no such
thing as the law of inertia, the law of force, the law of
gravitation" (5, p. 94).

Because we choose our laws instead of discovering
them, the laws of nature may be as illusory as the universal ether. Since our chosen laws or statements are approximations, they can never be true in an absolute
sense. Confusion arises when we take our view of nature for the final (correct) one. We assume too much
when we say we think God's thoughts after Him. We
approximate the truth, but we never arrive at it-our
"laws" are incomplete.

Secondly, our formulations of natural phenomena
are seemingly dominated by logical operations. Yet in
these operations inherent defects are apparent. By its
construction, deductive logic cannot create new truths
because all of the residual information is contained in
the premisses. The work of the brilliant metamathema-tician, Kurt G6del, showed that any deductive logical
system is essentially incomplete, for it is possible to ask
questions which cannot be fully answered within the
axiomatic framework of that syste-m. The question of
whether or not there is an inner logical flaw in a given
deductive system is a question which is simply unanswerable. Percy Bridgman states that " . . . logical
certainty is unobtainable and in hoping for it we are
deceived by a mirage of our own creation"
(1, p. 481).

If deductive logic is powerless to create new truths,
inductive logic is powerless to absolutize the truths it
can create, for these truths are of an inferential kind.
They are at best probability statements. The problem
here is to justify our inductive inferences. Either we
must postulate an a priori, in which case our logic winds
up being a philosophical assertion, or else we are
forced into an endless round of question-begging
statistical statements. Let me illustrate one facet of the
problem. If we would pick out a piece of wire from
a box and find out that it conducts a current we would
confidently predict that other similar pieces of wire
would also conduct electricity. But suppose we would
go to Mars, find a native, and learn that he calls himself Wormaldia. Are we then willing to predict that all
Martians are called Wormaldia? What is it that makes
us sure in one case and hesitant in the other? Logic, as
Goodman asserts, is in a state of confusion
(4).

To what does all this lead? No matter how thoroughly a scientist tries to describe the physical world in
terms of information derived from sense experience,
he can never be sure that he has accurately and completely mapped it. Analysis of our universe appears to
be an unending task. Simpson puts it succinctly: "It has
become increasingly evident in our century that science
is uncertain in its very nature . . . Indeed one thing of
which scientists can be quite certain is that they will not
achieve a
complete
solution of any worthwhile problem" (10, p. 5).

The final limitation is the biggest one of all. Science
does not furnish us with any really ultimate, satisfying,
Dr certain explanation of anything. Except on trivial
levels, scientists do not seem to be unanimous on any
basic question. Two illustrations must suffice to show
this point. Philosophers of science do not agree on the
relationships between our factual observations and
theoretical formulations. Some with Kemeny consider
that the main task of the scientist is to gather facts.
Out of a vast assemblage of facts we then formulate
our theories. Others like Popper say that a scientist gets
his theories by sudden flashes of creative insight. His
task then is to try to disprove his "guesses" via empirical tests. The question of how scientists get their
theories is partially answered by both the inductive and
the hypothetico- deductive approach.

Another difficulty scientists face is the problem of the
complexity of their theoretical formulations. If several
theories attempt to explain similar phenomena, most
scientists are inclined to choose the simplest on the assumption that a good law of nature is a simple one. But
how can we say that one law is simpler than another?

Nobody knows just what constitutes a good test for
simplicity in science. Goodman (4) emphatically asserts that the problem of simplicity needs a lot of hard
work and that " . . . the problem is not only one of
the most important in the philosophy of science but
also one of the newest to be tackled seriously."

We would like to be certain about our pronouncements of natural phenomena, but about all that remains
is uncertainty and incompleteness. It is no wonder, as
Anne Roe observed, that scientists must tolerate a high
degree of frustration in their work (10). Popper looks
to religion and philosophy for certainty, firmness of
faith, and absoluteness of conviction, but not to science:

. . . the old scientific ideal of episteme-of absolutely
certain, demonstrable knowledge-has proved to be an
idol. The demand for scientific objectivity makes it inevi
table that every scientific statement must remain
tentative forever.
It may indeed be corroborated,
but
every corrobor
ation is relative to other statements which, again, are
tentative. Only in our subjective experiences of conviction,
in our subjective faith, can we be 'absolutely certain'
(8, p. 280).

Whatever the public may think of science, scientists
see it as an exciting and sweeping undertaking, yet one
which will never yield true and final answers to any
worthwhile problem. Science can give us an imperfect
(i.e., essentially incomplete) model of the world. It can
attempt to explain how things work, but it cannot tell
us the answer to the deep cry of human existence,
'"Why are we here?"

Function of Religion

The function of religion as an ordered metaphysical
framework is to clarify the normative and teleological
areas of man's existence. Religion helps man to find
meaning and beauty in life as against the mood so well
reflected by Holderlin's words, "To us has been no resting place. Mortal men plunge and fall, like water tossed
from rock, down into the unknown forever." Religion
attempts to find a rationale for existence by answering
three basic questions concerning man's humanness: Why
am I here? What does it mean to exist? Where am I
going? The Christian religion in terms of God's revelation adds a fourth: What does God think of me?
Christianity does not see a god of cyclic recurrence in a
world of total immanence. Nor does it see an eternal
world full of gods. But it meets God in history in the
person of Jesus Christ.

The concept of "religious truth" implies a finality
and an absoluteness in that religious truths involve
neither objective tests nor corrections. Scientific truths
are thus quite special; they imply nothing eternal and
final but establish only a relative degree of confidence
by means of adequate empirical corroborative tests
which aim to falsify the original hypothesis. Thus scientific truths are realistically and directly related to the
material universe, whereas religious truths are not so
related. It is helpful to distinguish between different
kinds of truth by the methods used for establishing
truth. Because religious truths speak to the problems of
man's existence, they become qualitatively more important for mankind than the probabilistic truths of science,
since these can never be absolute and final. Thus one
function of religion is to go beyond science and touch
vital areas of man's life which are closed to empirical
methods.

Individuals must choose the options of Christianity
or else reject them. They cannot be forced willy-nilly
on anyone. If a person rejects the claims of Christianity, that must be his decision and his alone. But he does
not decide because science tells him it is the intellectually respectable thing to do. I am a Christian now because the claims of Christianity make sense to me. It
matters terribly for me to know what die God I worship thinks of me. And I see the answer at Calvary in
Christ who can heal the broken heart and give a meaningful existence to a sin-shattered history. But I cannot
prove this. I can only witness-which is all the Master
asks us to do.

A Challenge

It seems to me that college campuses have enough
critics. We need more than critics. We need creative
thinkers who are willing to engage their intellects in an
analysis of the issues that confront us. just as a biological population will die out unless it can meet the pressures of a changing environment, so Christianity also
will loose its influence unless it can adapt to a changing cultural and social environment. We therefore need
Christiad scholars with a highly disciplined intellect and
a liberalized mind who are eager to tackle the problems
beset by an ever-changing environment. We need thinkers who will provide us with intellectual mutationsfresh and perhaps fantastic ideas. We need boundless
imagination in many fields, for as Disraeli once wrote,
" . . . prevailing opinions are generally the opinions
of the generation that is passing." We must have teachers and thinkers who realize that the transmission of
knowledge involves selection and ordering of materials.
All of this calls for a high degree of creativity, particularly if the cultural gap between the humanities and
the sciences is to be bridged.

Not only should we master our own fields of interest, but we should become bridge-builders, learning
what men are saying in other disciplines besides our
own. This is the only way to avoid the cultural psychosis which so plagues our generation. Creative conversation can arise only by bridge-building, by scholars reacting vigorously with the insights afforded by another
field. For example, specialists in religion must converse with the sciences, with psychology, and with art,
for these and other disciplines have insights that will
help not only to understand better the pressures of our
times but also to serve as a feedback to religion, helping to sharpen its focus on the critical issues of the
1960's.

To illustrate, evolutionary theories pose one of the
continual challenges for the evangelical thinker. I am
not sure why Christians exhibit so much emotion when
evolution is discussed. At any rate, I think it is time for
Christians who ought to know better to stop writing
nonsense about evolution and treat it as they would any other theoretical formulation in science-an explanation of natural phenomena that is neither final nor absolute. It is not sufficient simply to reject evolution.
What must be done is to go beyond mere feelings of
conviction about one's perceptions to the formulation
of an assertion which contradicts the empirical premisses of evolutionary mechanics and which includes instructions for testing the new formulation in an empirical manner. We need Christian scholars who will
master the literature of evolutionary mechanics, do some
research in evolutionary theory, and then let their insights speak to the hermeneutical problems in Genesis.
This is only one field; there are many others.

Conclusion

We have indicated that science is an engaging human
mental creation attempting to explore the natural universe, which is held to be orderly and self-testing. However, it is limited in what it can accomplish; it can
never arrive at any final and absolute truths. Weaver's
comments sum up my ideas:

To those who expect science to be perfect, who expect
it to be irresistibly all-powerful, who think of it as being infinitely precise and logically impeccable, who see
science marching relentlessly forward 'explaining' one
thing after another in cold and mechanical terms, who
even feel that science squeezes the beauty and mystery out
of all that it touches-to all such persons it is necessary
to say: "My friends you are mistaken" (12).

Religion furnishes us with the necessary absolutes to
grant meaning to one's existence. The Christian accepts
God's revelation as normative for his life. Acceptance
of such options is not subject to any demonstrable proof
Df superiority, but these options become meaningful
only as they speak to the real problems of man's existence.

Finally, the essential task of the Christian scholar is
c)ne of bridge-building, of mastering the insights
afforded by various disciplines and then bringing these
insights to bear on problems faced by the Christian
community. For the dedicated and committed Christian,
I think exciting days lie ahead of us in terms of creative
bridge-building-bridge-building in terms of the fulfilled life that is found only on the other side of losing
life.